A Soul Like You
by godsandstars
Summary: Four months after Jane Foster's disappearance, Darcy Lewis has been forcibly transferred to work directly for SHIELD, programming in Stark Tower. After a blowout with none other than Tony Stark, Darcy finds herself face to face with Captain America - and then her life changes for good. Sequel to Giving It All.
1. Part One

_**Part One**_

* * *

Darcy awoke with stars in her eyes and a certain sense of rumbling; the subway was in her bones.

Sitting up in bed, she cradled her face in her hands, trying to gain sense of the world. She could still feel it: the callous of her fingertips, the keyboard beneath them. She remembered the way Mike had stared at her hands, the way he licked his lips and blinked at her screen, as if uncertain the coding spreading across it were real, were plastered there in black and white.

"Where did you come from?" he'd asked two days ago.

Wearily, she glanced at her clock. 3:14 AM.

Every single night, the subway woke her. And every single night, she sat up in bed, looking around her room, shrouded in dark. She saw the small red dot on her television, steady and fragile all at once, glaring at her from the wall. She saw the constant glow from her window, a summons to the street below.

New York never slept. She would never again know what true dark really was, as long as she lived here.

It was at least a full minute before she forced herself to look away, to look down at her lap. _Not tonight_ , she told herself, forcing her body back against the bed, forcing her head to look away from that perpetual light in the window, from that constant, unspoken request, as if the City itself were calling to her. _It's dangerous out there this late at night_.

Darcy squeezed her eyes shut, a futile attempt to forget that living, breathing world outside. She forced herself to think of work, to think of Stark Tower where there were endless strings of code to write, endless cups of good coffee, endless stares and whispers in her direction. She _liked_ her job, sure. She _liked_ her New Life where everyone seemed to have burning halos around their heads, where everyone _glowed_ and spoke in voices that echoed in her mind; it was as if the world had been turned way up, like God or something had pushed a switch in efforts to burn her eyes - but it was okay, really. All Darcy had to do was tell herself that _he_ wasn't in the corner of her eye, that _she_ wasn't in the break room with her head bent over a book. Her breath had caught in her throat and her heart had skipped so many beats so many times over the last month; she may as well be dead. But she wasn't.

And that was okay.

She could live with this shiny new reality - it reminded her that she was alive. Coding had never looked so perfect, so veracious, so pristine. Darcy often wondered why she had ever talked herself into a Political Science degree - _computers_ were the future, after all. Who was she to think that books and boring lectures and _opinions_ were better than her fingers racing across a keyboard?

Opening her eyes, Darcy ground her teeth together until she felt a sharp jab in one of her back molars. She stared across the room, toward where her closet would be, if she could make it out. When had she ever thought that being a stupid lab assistant was a good idea, anyway?

Refusing to think about _that_ , she forced the thought out of her mind. She was no longer tired, but she had to be up at 6:15 sharp. She couldn't be late again; she couldn't sleep in again. Her skills could only take her so far before SHIELD found some worse, less desirable department to shove her in; she could only imagine what it would be like to nuke peas for the Stark Tower cafeteria for a living.

Darcy thought of her journal, burning a hole in her small crossover bag. She could pull it out, she could get a few lines written down. Maybe it would calm her nerves.

And it was while she was contemplating this that Darcy found herself slipping off to sleep - she dreamed of the sound of the subway, the feeling of being watched, and her life before Stark Tower.

* * *

"Hello, anybody there?"

Darcy blinked, the sounds around her suddenly dissipating, leaving a sudden sense of chill in its wake. She turned her head, a smile mechanically finding its way on her face. Mike, her manager-but-really-just-your-buddy, was standing next to her desk, an expression of worry on his face that she was becoming all too familiar with. He was a man of about 40, with trendy glasses and a receding hairline.

"Hey, Mike. What's happening?" Darcy asked, moving her hands to her lap. She could not type and talk at the same time.

He didn't immediately answer, looking distracted by the work on her screen. He let out a low whistle.

"Damn…I don't know why I continue to be shocked by your work, but…I am."

He meant it as a compliment. Darcy allowed another weak smile to cross her face.

"Listen, the real reason I came over here is because I noticed you haven't taken your break yet. It's going on two. I don't want my staff starving themselves over code." He said that last bit as a joke, but Darcy didn't laugh.

"I'm not hungry today, or I would have."

Something in Mike's expression changed, but Darcy couldn't name it. His eyes darted back and forth across the large office space, and then he stepped a little closer.

"Darcy…" he began, his voice low. Darcy raised her eyebrows, his face beginning to blur in front of her. She knew he was about to lecture her - about her health, her bad habits. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Maybe he even knew about her late-night excursions? Why wouldn't he? He's SHIELD. They knew everything there was to know about everything. Except about Jane.

 _No_. She wouldn't think about that. She couldn't.

"…just worried about you a bit. I know I'm your boss, but I don't want you to think of me that way. You work harder than anyone else in this department. Even Mr. Stark himself has commented on it."

"Hmm."

Mr. Stark. Tony. She remembered meeting him, vaguely, in the elevator. The experience wasn't as cool as she thought it'd be, mostly because he asked her questions about Jane as the elevator flew from the lobby to the 25th floor. At the time, she barely said anything at all - but in her head, she was screaming. He should have known the answers to all those questions - Agent Wilson had already asked them.

The thought of Agent Wilson's gray eyes and tight-lipped expression was enough to cause her skin to crawl.

"…and you know, I'm always here for you. It's part of my job, but I also care about you, too."

"Huh."

"Are you…listening to me?"

Darcy blinked. The office, and Mike, cut into her vision sharply, and she nearly squinted. She looked at her keyboard, her screen. Then she swallowed.

"I'm listening. Look, Mike. I'm sorry I seem distant, and weird. It's…it's because…" she faltered, unsure of how to proceed.

"Because of Dr. Foster's disappearance?"

Darcy jumped up from her seat as if it had burned her. The way Mike had said it - so casually, as if it had happened to just _anyone_ , as if it wasn't her _fault_ \- she found herself walking away, toward the door that led to the elevator.

"Darcy! Where are you going?"

Several heads were turned, watching her. Her face flamed, but she didn't stop.

"Going to lunch. Weren't you just telling me I should take one?"

Mike didn't reply. Darcy reached the door, and shut it firmly behind her.

The door shutting was an immediate relief from the building feelings of guilt and embarrassment. For a few short moments, Darcy considered leaving the building, walking the streets until she burned a hole through her shoes. But she shook the thought off - she already had something to answer for when she returned, but it didn't look like Mike was going to chase after her.

 _Good_ , she thought. _Maybe he'll leave me alone for awhile_.

Heading toward the elevator, she shook her head slowly. Ever since she got here, she's always had the underlying sense that she didn't belong. Like she was just a placeholder, that this was only temporary. She refused to think too much about her life Before. Thinking about that, meant to think about Jane.

She didn't want to go there. Not now. Not when it was still so fresh.

She punched the elevator button, tapping her foot as she waited for it to arrive. Even though she didn't want to think about Jane, now that she was, it was impossible to stop. Unbidden, memories of that last day, of Jane being arrested right in front of her, of her strangled, pale face as they escorted her out, filled her mind. Darcy had done so little to stop it. She had been blind-sighted. Jane…and _Loki_. The whole thing had stunned her beyond all reason, but it wasn't until SHIELD came for Darcy that she began to see the truth: this was all her fault.

* * *

 _A gushing wound_  
 _a_  
 _feather touch_  
 _a_  
 _stolen kiss_  
 _or_  
 _a laugh, a shout, a_ _  
_ _memory_

The scratching of Darcy's pen in her journal was all she could hear as she wrote the words, unbidden, in the cafeteria. She thought of Mike, his shout at her retreating back. She wondered what they'd thought of her as she ignored him.

The florescent lights above cast an unnatural hue to the room, but she studiously ignored it, continuing to write as if it could truly erase everything else.

 _each love i have ever felt_  
 _was not fate but_ _  
_ _my own fault_

She knew that she would soon have to stop to go back upstairs and deal with Mike. There was no way she was getting away with running out on him like that - she'd have to answer for it.

 _i believe we spend much of our lives_ _  
_ _living in the shadow of ghosts_

 _touch me, open me up and consume me_  
 _let me believe that i am all you feel_  
 _all you know_  
 _all you see_  
 _don't let me slip away,_ _  
_ _don't let me leave_

Darcy sat back, looking at her sloppy prose. None of it made sense or even seemed to relate to each other.

 _whisper in my ear_  
 _make me your girl,_ _  
_ _take me as i am_

She looked at her pen, looked at the white grip holding it. And then she looked up.

Tony Stark stood some feet away, watching her. She would typically expect, based on the media, some level of good humor on his face, but now, it was grim. She quickly closed her journal and placed it in the empty space in her crossover, preparing herself for him to speak.

"I went to Programming to find you and was told you had stormed out."

Darcy flinched, the stark white fluorescents suddenly seeming so much worse. She didn't stand, but imagined herself doing so: she could almost imagine herself so much taller than Tony, taller than this very building.

"Your boss is concerned," Tony continued. "Which means that I'm concerned as well."

"Is it common for you to be involved in something so…beneath you?"

Darcy's question gave Tony obvious pause.

"Beneath me?"

"Yeah. Tony Stark. The _Man_. Why are you here? I'm not an Avenger. I'm barely on your payroll."

His mouth turned up at that, the barest hint of a smile.

"It is true I postponed a meeting with the Secretary of State to be down here." He turned his head, appearing to regard the mostly empty cafeteria, and then shrugged, turning back to look at Darcy. "What were you writing about?"

At his question, her heart quickened uncomfortably. She shook her head. "Nothing. What is it that you need from me?"

"I want to talk with you. In my office."

The words sounded so ominous. Almost threatening. It didn't occur to Darcy that she should be more careful with her tone, that this man controlled her future with this company.

"Why?"

If he was annoyed by her, he didn't show it. Instead, he smiled, the first genuine expression Darcy had seen from him yet. The smile transformed his face, making him appear younger, more dashing. Yeah - dashing. She giggled at that, and nodded.

"Alright, you don't gotta twist my arm. I'll go."

The two of them exited the cafeteria, Tony leading the way to an elevator she had never used before but had seen SHIELD agents getting on and off of, and once, Natasha Romanoff. He inserted a key card into the panel above the buttons for coinciding floors, and hit one near the top.

"Have you ever been above the 25th floor?" Tony asked, conversationally. Darcy shook her head.

"I don't have the clearance."

"What do they have you working on in Programming, anyway?"

"You don't know?" Darcy challenged, a hint of a smile on her face. She marveled at how good it felt to let loose a little, despite doing so with someone of Tony's stature. It felt familiar, like sparring with Jane. The thought made her smile drop.

"I wish I could keep up with every project in this building, but since my efforts and SHIELD's have become so interlaced…" Tony trailed off with the air of someone having said too much, and shook his head. "I read reports, but sometimes, I'd just rather get drunk and test my suit."

Darcy snorted at that. "Drinking and driving. You seem the type."

He put his hand to his heart in mock hurt. "My lady, I take serious offense to that. It's drinking and _flying_."

She laughed at that. It felt good, like letting something go, weighing less. "Mike has a few of us working on tightening up the security of a specific criminal database - SHIELD proprietary data, head shots, fingerprints and other things like that."

"Heavy stuff."

The elevator dinged, alerting them that they had arrived their destination. As the doors opened, Darcy was welcomed with an extremely white, posh and modern looking foyer, with sleek doors and abstract art lining the walls.

It was very quiet. She followed Tony down the hall and to the left, and stopped in front of a door where he inserted his key card once again. The door's handle _beeped_ , and she followed him inside.

When Tony had said he wanted to speak to her in his office, she imagined a more modern version of her old high school principal's office: wooden desk, filing cabinet, drooping plants. Maybe a minibar, since the rumors about Tony always whispered about alcohol. She was not expecting this large expanse of space, the tall, floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of downtown Manhattan, the shining black surface and eco-chair that Tony was now sitting in, or the general air of hospitality that was altogether extremely unexpected for Darcy. Her breath caught, a stupid, stupid reaction to all of this, and she breathed in and out slowly until she could get a grip on herself once and for all.

"Take a seat, please." Tony gestured before his desk to a set of chairs, and Darcy chose one and sat, taking her crossover off and setting it on the floor beside her. She watched him tap on the surface of his desk, eyes widening at the sudden appearance of what looked like flat, interactive holograms in front of Tony's face. Her own hardware in Programming had impressed her when she arrived, but this was altogether a new plane of existence.

"You want a drink?" he asked her as he tapped, swiped and typed across his desk. She realized suddenly how very brown his eyes were.

"I'm on the clock."

"Right. More for me." He stood and poured himself a tumbler of something amber, whiskey maybe, or rum. He sat back down and sipped his glass, regarding her with a look that made her feel vulnerable, like her thoughts were on display.

"The last time we met, in the elevator, I wanted to talk to you about Dr. Foster and Thor's brother."

Darcy sat back in her chair. She was expecting this. She was also quite prepared for the way her heart suddenly lurched, the way her stomach seized at the thought of talking about it all.

"Anything I can tell you, you already know."

Instead of immediately replying, Tony swirled the liquid around in his glass, and Darcy eyed the way the light blazed off of it - like a crystal caught in the sun. She looked down at her feet, waiting for his next words.

"I want to tell you right now that I am not Agent Wilson. I know you didn't know that Jane and Loki were involved. I know that you were in the room when she was arrested and brought upstate. And I know that was the last time you ever saw her."

Darcy didn't reply to this. His words brought that day back in force, and she'd really rather not think about it.

"The reason I wanted to talk with you today is because…between you and me, we've all but given up hope on ever finding them. Thor says that Loki has the 'power to jump worlds' -" Tony used exaggerated quotation marks with his fingers - "and that when Loki doesn't want to be found, he won't."

The implications of Tony's words sunk in, and Darcy's heart quickened. "You're giving up?" she asked. "Just like that?"

Tony looked momentarily stunned, but recovered quickly. "Well. Yes. We are. I'm sorry, Darcy…but it's been almost five months, and we've scoured this planet. We don't, sadly, have the power to 'jump worlds' - whatever that means - and we have come to the conclusion that Loki and Jane are off planet."

 _Off planet_. Those two words - in this room, in this context, seemed utterly bizarre and surreal. It solidified everything Darcy had ever feared, and she felt her throat burning as she blinked back tears.

"You've searched everywhere? Every country, every city? They could have holed up in a pyramid of Egypt - how the fuck would you even know?"

Tony's face changed to one of remorse. He cleared his throat, and stood, going to the minibar again and pouring another drink in a new glass. Darcy thought fiercely, bitterly, that perhaps the rumors were true: Tony was a drunk, and could barely go a few minutes without having a drink.

Instead of tossing the glass back, he brought it around the desk and handed it to Darcy, kneeling down in front of her.

"This will help. Calms the nerves, and all that."

Darcy took a sip. It burned her throat even more, and it tasted like smoke.

Tony stayed there, his face compassionate and open for a moment, and then said, quietly, "We track Loki's magic. We can, anyway. That's how SHIELD found him to begin with."

The anomalies. The ones that Agent Wilson was showing to Jane, right before he arrested her. Darcy assumed they were something else - maybe like the Bifrost, the Einstein-Rosen Bridge that Jane was trying to build - on SHIELD's behalf - and mistook her reaction for disbelief that they would steal her proprietary methods, not that they had notated every time and place she and Loki had stolen away. It all made so much more sense: the look on Jane's face, the absolute and utter fear, and the terrible sense of helplessness that had washed over Darcy as they had carried Jane away, out of the lab.

And also, her last words. Her promise that she would explain everything to her, when she could.

But she never did.

"The absence of Loki's magic most likely means that he's gone - and since he broke into our facility upstate, taking Jane with him, we have come to the conclusion that he took her with him, wherever he went."

"I never doubted he took her with him," Darcy said, taking another sip. She found herself appreciating the biting flavor, the way it trailed down her throat. She realized that for the first time since she got here, she was in a position, however fragile, to get answers, and she leaned forward, meeting Tony's eyes. "Where was the last place he used his magic?"

"Some mountain in Norway. East of a city called Bergen. The same night that Jane escaped SHIELD custody. And after that - silence."

Darcy sat back, gripping her glass with controlled force. Trying not to squeeze too hard. Her eyes flicked to the wall of windows behind Tony's desk, taking in the overcast, winter day. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, and the forecast had been talking of snow for days, but not one flake had fallen yet.

"Why are you giving up?" she found herself asking. "SHIELD had been pushing Jane for months. Fuck, years, maybe, to build that Einstein-Rosen Bridge. She _slaved_ over it. You couldn't finish the job for her, couldn't use it?"

"She was substantially closes to finishing that, based off her notes. But - Darcy, to use it in that capacity would be a suicide mission."

"Then why have her build it at all?" Darcy spat, standing up abruptly. "What was the fucking point?"

"You're confusing me with SHIELD," Tony said levelly. "I can't answer your question. Believe me, I've tried hacking into those files, but I came up with nothing that made any sense."

"You're in contact with Thor. Why doesn't he do something?"

"What would you propose he do?"

The tone Tony used - the emotionless gaze, the grim set of his mouth, angered Darcy beyond reason. She saw blinding white, and before she knew what she was doing, she threw the glass in her hand onto the dark wooden floor, the shatter deafening in the silence of the room.

"Fuck this. I don't need to listen to this. I don't need _you_. I'm leaving."

And with that, she turned on her heel, rushing out of the office and down the hall and turning right to make her way to the elevator, jabbing the call button furiously, her hands shaking and her ears ringing. Who did he think he was? Did he think he knew Jane better than her? Did he think he knew what was good for Darcy?

Tony didn't follow her. It was completely silent in the hallway, and Darcy tapped her foot impatiently as she waited.

The elevator _dinged_ , its doors opening, and in her anger, she didn't even look at who stepped off as she got on, jabbing the button for the lobby.

"Ma'am," she heard, and she whipped her head around, at first unable to process just who she was looking at.

It was Captain America. Steve Rogers, in all his glory, wearing a periwinkle pullover and jeans, his eyes so blue in this stark white hall that Darcy, for a moment, couldn't believe they were real. She blinked, and he smiled at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. She was momentarily captivated, or stunned, at the way he was looking at her: as if she were real, as if he _cared_.

She did not have time to respond to him. The elevator doors shut in his face, and she was hurdled down to the lobby.

There was no time to contemplate Steve Rogers. Going back upstairs would require clearance she didn't have, and it would also require seeing Tony again, which she adamantly didn't want to do. No matter what Steve was about to say to her, it couldn't have been important. She would have been shocked if he even knew her name.

The elevator arrived to the lobby. In Darcy's rush, she hadn't even considered going back to work; in her current state, she didn't want to, anyway. She left the building, stepping onto the busy, cold street, wrapping her cardigan around herself, ignoring the foot traffic. She set off for her apartment, intending to walk, but she hadn't gotten far when she heard her name being called.

"Ms. Lewis! Darcy Lewis!"

It was Steve Rogers again. She turned, aware that some people were gawking; Steve was rushing up to her, hood up around his face, carrying something that looked so incongruent in his hands that she couldn't help but gasp.

"My bag."

He stood before her, his body tense and poised. Out of nowhere, she wondered what it would be like to be saved by someone like him.

She reached for the bag.

"Thanks. I…I rushed out of there, I forgot all about this," Darcy said, taking it and crossing it over her chest. Steve smiled again, all white teeth and genuine.

"Tony was pretty put out at your quick exit."

"Is that what he said?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"No. But he gives himself away."

She was aware of all the people around them. It was getting late in the work day, nearing rush hour. She shifted in her spot, very much not wanting to talk about Tony Stark and their conversation upstairs. She was calming down though, seeing beyond the surge of anger, and in its wake was a sense of exhaustion.

"Listen, Mr…America. Thank you for bringing this back. I wouldn't have been able to get to my apartment without it." She wanted to kick herself - _Mr. America_?

His lips twitched, but he shuffled uncomfortably in place. "Please, call me Steve. I would normally offer to walk you home, but I have to _rendez-vous_ with Tony and he said it couldn't wait."

She wanted to laugh at the idea of him offering his arm and skipping down twelve blocks to her apartment building, but shoved the image aside.

"Thanks again. Maybe I'll…see you around."

Something strange flashed in Steve's eyes, something Darcy couldn't place. It was gone in a second, and he smiled that easy smile again, and nodded. "I'll be looking forward to it."

They parted ways, and Darcy took the long walk home. She played with her phone, scrolled through social media, checked the news. Anything to get Tony Stark and Jane and Loki out of her mind. Anything to forget about Steve Rogers, too.

It wasn't until she was inside of her apartment when she realized her journal was missing.

* * *

 _Comments and thoughts appreciated! I do not own Marvel / MCU stuff, obvie. :D_


	2. Part Two

_**Part Two**_

* * *

Darcy couldn't sleep.

It was late. Too late to be walking alone at night in such a big city. And it was cold - the kind of cold that settles in, that attaches itself to your very bones. She walked quickly, her hands shoved in her coat pockets, scarf billowing behind her as she went.

New York wasn't the same at night. It was like the city became something else entirely - something that felt oddly sentient, with half-dark buildings that seemingly watched her pass beneath them. When she passed bars and clubs, a subdued energy rushed to meet her, a cacophony of voices, beats and sounds mingling in her ear.

She could go inside. Have a drink, dance with a stranger. But she never did.

It was easier, being alone.

Something felt different tonight. She checked her phone - it was nearly 2, and she coughed, cold air burning her throat. She should really turn back. Every now and then, she passed someone else on the sidewalk, and she could swear she felt their eyes burning holes in the back of her head.

She turned around, back toward her apartment building. For the millionth time that night, she wondered where her journal was. Who had picked it up. The thought scared her, yet thrilled her at the same time. She had written her name right in it, along with her address. Whoever read it, knew who it belonged to.

Logic told her that Tony or Steve had it; Steve even more so, since he was the last one to touch her purse, where the journal was usually kept. But something didn't jive with that image - Steve Rogers, Captain America, hunkered over the ramblings of a girl so far beneath him - it was almost comical. It was then that she remembered the look on his face; it had looked a lot like concern, with the flicker of something indecipherable in his eyes when they parted.

Like he wanted to say something he hadn't.

She wondered what he would think about her poetry. Would he blush? Would he relate? Would he think it was trash? Darcy didn't really think that he read much; he seemed awfully busy saving the world most of the time. She didn't even want to think about Tony reading her words. For some reason, it felt so much more wrong.

And of course, she could be totally off base about it entirely. Someone else could have found it - maybe it fell out of her purse on her way to Tony's office; maybe it had fallen out in the cafeteria.

Regardless, she needed it back. She felt strange without it. Naked and vulnerable, like that feeling you get when you look straight down from a tall building: like the ground will fade from beneath your feet, and you will fall, no questions asked.

Her block was uncommonly quiet. Street lamps above her flickered as she passed under them, casting eerie shadows that popped in and out of existence. She walked quicker.

She unlocked the front door of her building and stepped inside. She trekked up two flights of stairs, her feet almost exhausted as the rest of her. She knew she would sleep better tonight. She always slept the best after her late night walks.

When she got to her own apartment door, a small _thump_ inside gave her pause. Fear, warm and thick, washed over her as she realized that someone was inside.

Tasers were illegal in New York, and all she had was pepper spray. She was grateful to have even that, and she unlocked the door quietly after she had dug it out of her bag, clutching the small can as she crept inside.

There was a slight shuffle coming from her bedroom. Darcy gulped, taking a deep breath as she approached, hoping the floor didn't creak and give her away. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered why anyone would bother burgling her. She had nothing of value except for a four year old laptop with a dent in the casing and a silver necklace with a tiny gemstone heart that her mother gave her when she graduated high school. Everything else was standard junk. But, she supposed, they wouldn't know that.

The door to her bedroom was cracked, and she peered inside slowly, expecting to see someone ransacking the place. But she saw only a silhouette in the darkness, leaning over her bed, and then raising up again. Moonlight filtered across it, and she realized who it was.

"Steve?"

He jumped. She opened the door and stepped inside, flicking the bedroom light on, not ready to lower her pepper spray.

The look on his face was genuine shame; the sort of look little kids get when you catch them at something they've been told not to do. Steve raised his hands, and her eyes flicked to her bed where he had been facing before. Her journal lay on the unmade bedspread, black and anonymous as ever.

 _He had my journal_ , she thought. "What the fuck."

"Darcy - Ms. Lewis - this isn't what it looks like."

The sound of her name coming from his mouth felt strangely satisfying. She swallowed, and pointed the can right at him. "And what does this look like?"

Eyes tracking the pepper spray, he said, "I'm not here to hurt you. I swear. I - when you left your bag in Tony's office earlier, he told me I had better give it back to you. The book fell out and I picked it up and…I admit I did wrong. I looked. I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry."

He did sound sorry. Darcy lowered her hand, meeting Steve's guilty gaze, his eyes burning sapphires in the dim lighting. She approached him, and took the journal from the bed. Opening it up and seeing her name inside did not calm her like she thought it would.

"And you thought you'd sneak into my apartment in the middle of the night and just return it? Just like that?" Steve was silent; there were two small red patches forming on his cheeks as he looked at Darcy's feet. Her hand shook as she held the journal, which disgusted her. She didn't want to shake. "How much did you see?"

Steve didn't answer, but finally met her eye. Darcy's face flamed and she clutched the book to her chest.

"You read the whole thing?" she asked. Not really a question. She broke his gaze, eying the window with the flimsy gauze curtains, the breeze rippling through them, giving them the appearance of floating in water. She realized in that moment that he had climbed through her window like an old-fashioned robber, and snorted aloud.

"Darcy," he said quietly. She figured it would only make sense to be on first name basis with Captain America; after all, he knew all of her darkest thoughts now. She was too embarrassed to look at him.

"You read my journal. Nobody has ever done that before. Ever." Saying the words out loud made everything seem more concrete. She wanted to feel more indignant about the whole thing. She wanted to be like Jane, all fury and anger when SHIELD stole all of her research and equipment. In a way, Steve _had_ stolen something from her; something that she had never given anyone before. But Darcy was certain she felt much angrier about her lost iPod than the fact that Steve had read her words. Oddly, she only felt a sense of relief. She looked up at him again as he replied.

"I know." His voice was quiet. He was looking at her like she would snap at any moment, as if he wasn't strong enough to stop her if she did. Darcy wasn't sure how she felt about that. "I mean, I really know I crossed a line and if you want to report me I understand. I deserve it."

"Jesus, calm down. I'm not going to report you."

Relief crossed over his features.

"Thank you."

Darcy allowed herself to inspect the man before her. Before today, she had only seen him on TV and in photos. It was hard to believe that someone this beautiful existed. She wondered if he had any idea. His eyes were fixed on her, his lips in a firm line. He was so wholesome. That was what everyone said. But he had read her journal, and looked no different at all.

"What did you think of it?" she found herself asking. She flinched as soon as the words left her mouth.

Steve looked shocked at her question.

"I…I couldn't put it down. I didn't mean to read the whole thing. But once I started, I couldn't stop." Again, that look of shame crossed his face. She watched him, enraptured.

"Why?"

What did she want him to say? What was she looking for? She wasn't sure. But her question affected him - she saw something different in his face now, something she couldn't name. His expression sent something deep and visceral through her. As if his face spoke a silent yet primal language that only her body somehow understood, she stepped forward without even meaning to.

"Why, Steve?" she asked again, trying his name out loud. It felt good to say it, and she stepped closer, clutching her journal even tighter. She was close enough to clearly see the rise and fall of his chest. He was still wearing the same sweater from earlier. She wondered what it would feel like to touch him. Was the material as soft as it looked? And what about the skin beneath it?

He looked like he was battling with himself. Something was stopping him from answering her question, and Darcy waited for a moment before she realized that he wasn't going to answer her at all. She thought of the things she had written - most of it gibberish, junk, really - but so much of it was more than that.

"I should go," he said, bowing his head slightly. "It's late - it's not right for me to be here."

She didn't point out that he was the one who broke into her apartment. She simply nodded, and after he left, she closed the front door firmly behind him, ensuring it was locked and chained tight.

She did not sleep well that night.

* * *

Three nights later, there was a knock at the door.

Darcy jumped, turning the volume down on the TV out of reflex, but then cursing herself for her stupidity. She wasn't expecting anyone. It was going on nine. Her eyes darted to the window of her living room; she could see only darkness through the sheer curtain.

The knock came again, more urgent. She stood and went to the door, leaning in to look through the peephole.

Steve stood out there, his face oddly distorted through the lens. Her heart sped way up, it was practically in her mouth. But she couldn't say she was surprised.

Steeling herself, she opened the door. She took inventory of his expression: apprehensive, yet somehow resolved. His eyes darkened when he took her in, but then he smiled.

"Hello," she said, somewhat nervously. She thought of the other night - the way he had left abruptly, the breaking and entering. She realized now that she wasn't angry at him. She was desperate to know what he thought of her, and her journal. She stepped aside and gestured. "Come in."

He entered her living room, and their eyes met again. She was certain the irony was not lost on him that last time he was here, he was uninvited.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. Seeing him again after last time brought everything back afresh. The way he had stared at her, the way he had emanated power in her tiny bedroom.

"No. No, it's nothing like that. Not really."

Steve's voice seemed to command her small space. She watched him, her TV flickering images in the background, color splashing over the walls, his body. Blue and green. Purple and yellow. He was dressed down again, jeans and a sweater, this time black. He had the beginnings of a beard growing in, starkly dark against his pale skin.

"Then what is it?" she asked. She wanted to know why he was here. She wanted to know if he felt it, too - that strange pull between them. She felt so disconnected from the world when he stood before her. The last three days have felt almost unreal, like she was simply floating through them, toward this moment. She parted her lips, stared at his. What would they feel like on hers?

"I can't stop thinking about you."

The words were simple. They found their way into her brain, and she flushed. Her entire body flamed, and she stared at him.

He was embarrassed - the red patches were back, and he looked down at his feet. Darcy stepped forward, and grabbed his arm. Not rough enough to hurt him. But rough enough.

"Tell me why."

"You know why."

He didn't shy away from her touch. In fact, he seemed to lean in, eyes searching hers. She released the grip on his arm, but instead of taking her hand away, she moved up, grazing his shoulder, then touching his hot, flushed neck. She could feel his pulse racing, and lust shot through her with a strength she had never known.

She wanted to counter him - she wanted to demand answers. She didn't _really_ know why. She had an idea, maybe. Her journal - it had made him feel _something_. Darcy wanted to say something - but she knew that anything she'd say would only sound like a moan.

Steve's hand reached to cover hers on his neck. They stood still for what felt like hours. The light from the TV splayed over his face, flickering and flickering. And then he leaned in and kissed her.

Darcy released a breath she wasn't aware she was even holding and wrapped her arms around him, welcoming the kiss. She became aware for the first time the sound of his own breath, the feeling of it against her lips, and it lit her world on fire.

His hands were suddenly everywhere - up her shirt, gripping her shoulder blades, then down, roughly grabbing her ass, and then back up again, winding into her hair and tugging. Heat pooled between her legs. She felt herself being backed up, then being laid down on her couch with Steve above her, his weight pressing, incessant.

She moaned into the kiss. It was so much, all at once. She felt his scruff scratching her chin, his tongue pressing against hers. She pressed herself against him, needing more, needing something to satisfy the ache.

"Darcy…" he panted, breaking the kiss. She realized that she was panting too, and she grabbed his hips, pretending she had the strength to keep him against her.

"Don't stop," she said, aware that it sounded like little more than begging. "God - I - I haven't been touched like this in so long."

She thought she saw something in his face, something like doubt, flicker there for a moment. But then his eyes darkened again, and he brushed his hand over her cheek, tenderly. And then he tangled that hand in her hair and pulled.

"Oh," she gasped, her eyes squeezing shut from the sting. She squirmed beneath him, grinding and panting as her body reacted to the pain in a way that confused and excited her. She could feel Steve's breaths against her. She could feel his erection pressing against her leg.

She wanted more.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he said softly. His voice sounded far away in her lust-clouded mind, and she opened her eyes.

"Why not?"

"It's not…it's not…" he was obviously struggling to finish his thought. Darcy touched his face.

"What?"

He didn't answer her. His lips were parted, swollen from their kiss. She imagined the words trapped in his throat. She reached and grabbed his cock, hard against his jeans.

He released a breath against her neck and whispered, "I've never done this before."

Darcy was stunned. Her hands gripped at his sweater, their eyes meeting. She saw the embarrassment on Steve's face - the apprehension. He expected her to laugh at him. But instead, his words only made her feel hotter.

"I don't care," she said, softly. She reached again to caress him, feeling his hardness against the stiff fabric.

Something seemed to have broken within him. He leaned forward, lips crashing into hers, his hands tugging at her shirt, her pants. She pulled each article off quickly, hurriedly, not caring that she was giving herself up to someone she barely knew. She could only think about what he would feel like inside her, the fullness of it; hips meeting hers, release on the horizon. Nothing at that moment mattered to her more than that.

Steve's clothes were on the floor next to hers. She took in the expanse of milky skin, the defined muscle that simultaneously spoke of power and vulnerability. He had never been with anyone like this before, and she wondered what he saw in her to give that piece of himself away, so easily. She ran her hands down his chest, stopping at his hips.

"You're so beautiful," he said, reverence in his voice.

She flushed. She wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that he was the beautiful one. But then she eyed his cock pressing impatiently against her, and she said, "Get on your back."

There was something extremely heady about watching him comply. He lifted himself off of her and they switched positions quickly, and she knelt over him, her hands running softly over his stomach. If he felt confused or worried, he didn't show it. His face was transformed from lust.

Darcy was nervous. She had never done anything like this before - the last time she slept with someone she barely knew, she was blind drunk and remembered next to nothing. But right now, she was sober, and she realized that she would never want to be any other way with Steve. That was what he demanded from her: her full attention.

He was looking at her, imploring. She reached and grabbed him in her hand, the heat of his bare flesh sinking into her palm.

"Do you want this?" Darcy asked, softly. She didn't want him to say no. But she had to be sure. What he was offering her - it couldn't be revoked. He had to know that.

"I want _you_ ," he replied. He licked his lips and met her eye. "As much as you'll give me."

"I want to give you everything," she said without thinking. She lowered her head down, and without warning, took him in her mouth.

She heard his breath hitch. The sound sent fire straight to her pussy, and she opened her throat, the head of his cock hitting the back of it, stroking at what couldn't fit in her mouth. Her body was thrumming from the euphoria of the action; Steve's strangled breaths were like music to her, and the strained way his hips felt beneath her, like he was trying to stop himself from thrusting mercilessly into her mouth, felt like triumph. She used her tongue to explore him, and felt him shudder.

"Oh -" he gasped, and she felt his hands in her hair again, tugging.

It was almost too much; the way her head hurt at first from her hair being pulled yet warm and pleasurable all at once, Steve's hot body beneath her, his cock in her mouth as deep as she could take it. She wanted him inside of her, she wanted to satisfy the hungry ache between her legs, but her need to make him come was stronger. She needed to feel him unravel from what she was doing to him.

From the sounds he was making, he wasn't far off. She sped up, her hand gripping harder, her tongue swirling against him. There was something incredibly erotic knowing that she was the first to ever touch him this way.

For the first time since she started, she looked up at him to find that he was staring at her. Their eyes met, and she shuddered from the expression on his face. Like she was the only thing that existed at that moment; Darcy, and what she was doing to him. She couldn't stop herself from moaning against his cock, and Steve gasped.

"Darcy, I'm going to -"

She ignored his warning. Or welcomed it. In that moment, it didn't matter - and he came against the back of her throat, hard. His breathing was erratic, his hands gripping at her hair as he gave up all pretense of controlling his hips, he was riding it to the very end, and she loved every second of it.

After a few moments, Steve's breathing slowed, and Darcy raised up, releasing him and swallowing. She crawled up his chest and rested there, rubbing lightly against his exposed shoulder, smiling. The TV was still on, credits were rolling.

"That was…" he started, against her hair. She felt his hand reach to rest on her lower back and turned her head to look at him.

"That good, huh?" she asked, smirking.

Even in the dim room, she could see him flush. Darcy tentatively raised her hand, running it through his hair. It was surprisingly soft.

"Yes." He leaned in and kissed her, not heated and rough like earlier, but soft and slow, like they had all the time in the world. Like he wouldn't be leaving soon to save the world or whatever else it was that he did - Darcy couldn't exactly figure out the daily lives of the Avengers. They seemed to come and go. She swallowed that thought, though - his tongue slid into her mouth and her attention was again on the man before her.

It was over too soon. He broke the kiss, and said softly, "Now…how do I make you feel that way, too?"

The question caught her off guard. She stared at him. Her first instinct was to make a joke, but knew that wasn't the right thing to do. The question also turned her on all over again, and she shifted against him, aware of his cock hardening already against her hip.

"You want me to show you how?" she asked, shyly. No man has ever asked her what she's liked before; they always just assumed that they knew.

"Yes, I-" he faltered, eyes flicking away from hers, hands nervously rubbing against her back. "I want to do it right."

She thought very much that with the way he kissed, he could _definitely_ would do it right - but the idea of showing him where to touch her, and how, and when, made her pussy even hungrier. She wondered what it would feel like to come on his fingers, his mouth. And especially his cock.

She grinned. "Let's go to bed. I'll show you everything you want to know."

* * *

 _Comments and thoughts appreciated!_


	3. Part Three

**_Part Three_**

* * *

In Darcy's bed, they were little more than tangled limbs and heavy breathing and heat. She moaned into Steve's shoulder as he nuzzled her neck, kissing and nipping down to her clavicle. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest, and the reality of what they were doing was really sinking in.

She still didn't understand why he was here - but, for the moment, that was okay. Three nights ago, she was meandering through the dimly lit streets of New York, searching for something, or nothing at all. But here, in her warm bed with Steve, it was like everything was finally clicking into place for her.

Not even twenty minutes ago, she made a superhero come in her mouth - _her!_ \- and that was too fucking awesome to be questioned. He wanted her, and for now, that was all she needed to know.

"Darcy," he mumbled into her skin, his voice thick and sensual. Even in the dark, his hair looked golden, like a perfect sunrise. She ran her hands through it again.

"Steve," she replied, softly. He kissed down her chest, mouth landing on an already-hardened nipple, tongue flicking and flicking. "Yes," she gasped. "Just - just like that."

He didn't warn her for the bite that came - it was almost too rough, but in that moment, it was exactly what she needed. She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, hips grinding against his; she could feel his cock, hard and pressing into her skin.

"Touch me," she panted, opening her eyes again. "Please." She grabbed his hand, guiding it toward her aching center, allowing herself to groan when his fingers finally reached her slick folds. She had never in her life felt so ready to be fucked.

She let go of his hand for a moment, letting him explore her. Every touch sent jolts through her; hot, delicious ones that made her gasp. His breathing was increasing again, hard and heavy through his mouth.

"It feels…" he started, seemingly unable to find words. Darcy guided his fingers toward her clit, moaning as she guided him in tight circles there.

"Do this," she said, intending to say more, but unable to speak as soon as the pleasure overcame her. There was something so intimate about showing him how to touch her. And Steve was a quick learner - it took no time at all for him to get her there, hanging right over the edge, and she grabbed his other hand, guiding a finger inside, then two.

"Oh my God," he whispered as she came.

Her orgasm ripped through her, possibly the strongest she'd ever felt. She was spiraling, thrusting her hips against Steve's hands with abandon, sounds in her ears so foreign it wasn't until after she had ridden every wave that she realized that they came from her. She was barely aware when he let go of her, removing his hands and laying down next to her. She could only breathe, her body humming from the aftermath.

"Jesus," Darcy whispered. She turned over to face him, looking at him with what felt like reverence on her face. Her breath caught when she realized that he was looking at her the exact same way.

"That was…good, for you?" he asked, but for the first time that night, she saw a ghost of a smirk on his face - a crack in the serious exterior. That thought struck her as funny for some reason, and she giggled unabashedly, rolling over on her back again, clutching her stomach.

"Fuck, Captain. Who knew you had it in you?"

"What's so funny?" he asked, but he was smiling for real now, actual playfulness within it, and then he was on top of her again, pressing his lips against hers.

That was enough to quiet her mirth, and she kissed him back enthusiastically. She was again reminded of his erection, still pressing against her, and the thought of again satisfying him like nobody had before brought her lust back afresh.

She broke the kiss, hands running down his back, stopping at his hips. "I want you inside me." She swallowed, uncertain. "If - if that's what you want, too."

His cock twitched, as if in answer. Gone was that playfulness from earlier, and in its place was darkness again. Swollen lips parted, and he said, "Yes. Please."

"I'm on birth control," she said, clutching his hips, unable to stop herself from grinding against him again. "And I'm, you know. Clean."

She assumed that Steve had gathered enough about this day and age to know what those things meant. He only nodded. "They told me…that I can't. Um, have children."

Her heart thudded in place, not sure what to say to that declaration. She did the only thing she could think of, and kissed him again, parting her lips and using her tongue to explore his mouth, his breath once again quickening as the kiss excited him further. Instinctively, she spread her legs, and without even thinking about it, lined him up with her entrance.

There was only a split second where he broke the kiss, looking at her, question in his eyes. She gripped him harder. In one quick motion, he pushed himself inside her, and the world stopped turning.

Inch by inch, he slid into her heat. And when he was in as deep as he could go, he exhaled against her, their eyes meeting. He didn't move for a split second, as if too overwhelmed by the sensation, or as if the gravity of what he was doing was finally hitting him. She wasn't sure. She grabbed his face, brushing her lips over his.

"You're…" Steve said, his voice like gravel. He thrust in and out of her, a tiny movement, as if testing himself; getting a feel for how to move within her. She could feel how very wet she was, and her head began to swim. It wasn't enough, but it was perfection, all at once.

"So…perfect. Wet. Tight. Like…" His hips met hers, over and over, each thrust harder and harder until Darcy was seeing stars. His words were crawling inside of her, deeper than his cock was, twisting around and around in her blood until it was singing a song she had never heard before but already couldn't bear for it to stop. "Like you were made for me. For this."

"I was," she breathed, moving with him now, not even sure what she was saying or agreeing to. She could feel the coil of another orgasm, just within reach, her clit slamming against his body as he dove into her like a starving man. "Don't stop, Steve. Please. Fuck -"

The pleasure of it all cut her off; she could only watch him. His eyes were hooded and dark, the blue long gone, with something viciously sexy in its place. And then he lowered his gaze to watch where they were joined, lips parted, skin hot beneath her hands where she was scratching him. She did not have to guide his hand to her aching clit this time. He did it all on his own, hands slightly shaky as he landed in the place where she had shown him, circles slightly broader than before due to the speed in which he was slamming into her, yet it didn't matter. That coil sprang, and Darcy split into pieces beneath him, clawing at his back, his name escaping her lips more times than she could recollect.

She had barely come to when she felt his shudder. He bit her shoulder, a blossom of pain sprouting from that spot, but it bloomed into something warm and carnal. He was gasping into her flesh, and he pulled her leg up over his shoulder for deeper access.

He was close. She could feel it in the way his skin was flushing, the heat of his lips on her, tongue stroking any spot he landed on. His free hand squeezed at her breast, and Darcy had never seen anything hotter than Steve falling apart above her in her entire life. She had done this to him. _Her_.

"That's it," she whispered, wanting this moment to last forever, but wanting even more to watch him come inside of her. "Fuck me like you own me. Come for me."

She didn't expect him to respond. But he opened his eyes, meeting hers, and then he said, "You _are_ mine."

His words made her dizzy. And then he came, words escaping his mouth that she couldn't catch, whispers and gasps and she felt his hands practically squeezing her as he held her in place. She used her hips to milk him to the very end, and when he was done, he collapsed on top of her, catching his breath.

He was very quiet. Darcy patted at his head tentatively, as if uncertain what to do with herself. This was the part that she usually hated - in the past, she would generally jump up, make an excuse and escape to the bathroom. But not now. Darcy wanted to keep him here for as long as possible. She sighed against the side of his face, nuzzling against his scruff.

"Darcy," he mumbled, raising his head and looking at her. His lips were swollen red, his eyes tired and with the hint of a smile. He kissed her softly. She wondered if he was about to realize his terrible mistake and run off - she supposed she wouldn't be surprised or offended if he did. At least then she could say he left her life as quickly as he entered it.

"Are you okay, buddy?" she asked him, not unkindly. Remembering her first time, she flushed. It was nowhere near as fantastic as what just happened - she had bled all over the place and ruined the whole thing. At least, that's what her boyfriend had said.

"I'm…better than okay." He raised himself up off of her, and lay on his side next to her, fingers lightly brushing over her arm. She was cooling down now that the action was over, and his touch gave her goosebumps. "Darcy, I…thank you."

She didn't know what to say. 'You're welcome?' 'Thanks for the fuck?' 'Um, I'll treasure your virginity forever?' None of it felt right. Instead of answering, she got out of bed, realizing how sticky she felt now that the action was over. "I'll be right back, Captain."

In the bathroom, she cleaned herself up, and wet down a new washcloth for him. She stared at herself in the mirror, taking in her puffy lips, her smudged mascara, and her thoroughly fucked hair. She hadn't looked this alive in months. She hadn't felt this good in longer.

Back in the bed, she handed Steve the wet cloth.

"You're welcome, by the way," she said, causing him to still his hand. He looked at her questioningly. "For…this. And I should say, thank you as well."

After he was clean, she took the cloth and threw it in the general direction of her hamper. She lay down next to him, touching his shoulder, his arm. She wanted to savor this moment, to embed him perfectly in her memory. She knew that she might not get another chance with him. She wanted to make sure she would always remember the sleepy way he looked at her, the small curve of his mouth, his trussed-up hair.

"Your journal," he said randomly, after what felt like several moments of silence. Darcy stilled her fingers on his skin, as if afraid any movement would frighten him away. "You wrote about things in a way I'd never seen before. You wrote about…being owned, consumed, taken. Used."

Her own words, plucked from her journal and into Steve's mouth like that, made her blush.

"I did," she said finally, needing to fill the space between them with something. She suddenly felt very naked. Much more naked than flesh.

"I had never…of course, we talked about women. In the war." He swallowed, and looked at her, no trace of a smile left. Only lust. "We talked about sex. But this was like, like something out of a dream. That's how I felt. And it was like your words were talking to _me_. Asking _me_ to do those things to you."

She imagined it then, in the dead of night, waking up to find his hand wrapped around her face, quieting her, his cock thick and greedy. What would it feel like to submit to him, to let him take what he wanted because that was what he needed, and what she needed, too? She remembered the way he had pulled her hair and bit her, just a little too rough. Her heart sped up, and she realized that _this_ is what she saw in his eye the first time she met him that day they were standing outside of Stark Tower. It was his desire to conquest. His need to bend her will before his feet. He just didn't know it yet.

"I've never done any of those things I wrote about," Darcy said, finally. A confession. "They're fantasies. To get me…by."

"Is that what you want?" Steve asked her, reaching over to softly thumb her bottom lip. "Just to get by?"

"No. No, of course not." She hesitated, and then continued, forcing the vulnerability out of her voice. The uncertainty. "Tonight is the most alive I've felt in a long time. Not since Jane."

She was quite certain he knew about Jane. There was no way he didn't - she had it on good authority that most of the Avengers were on patrol at first, looking for them. Jane's research was too valuable to SHIELD for them to just let her go.

She remembered the look on Jane's face, right after they had arrested her. The look on Wilson's, too. That fucking bastard. He had _liked_ it.

It was as if time had frozen in that moment - that moment when Jane was taken away, with Darcy standing there, unable to stop it, unable to control it. As if she had been living her life the last few months as scared as she felt that day. She had no control over what had happened, and she fucking hated it. It had driven her crazy with fear, with uncertainty and grief. To Darcy, a huge chunk of her walked out the door that day with Jane, in handcuffs. When the agents had shown up at her apartment on Main street that night, she hadn't even put up a fight. What SHIELD wanted, they took. It was as simple as that.

"Where'd you go?" Steve asked, breaking through her thoughts.

"Nowhere," Darcy whispered. She wanted to change the subject. She didn't want to think about Jane any more.

"Tony told me what happened that day. In his office."

She didn't answer. Instead, she slid her hand down his stomach, feeling the heat of it.

His hand clasped around her wrist, hard. The shock of it jarred her back to the present.

"He told me that SHIELD is giving up on your friend." His eyes bore into hers. Darcy nodded. "I want you to know that for as long as I'm around, I'll always look out for signs of her or Loki."

"Thank you, Steve." His words touched her, even though she knew he would never find them; Jane was not coming back. But the idea that he would be on the lookout when he was on the field warmed her, thawing the thickness around her heart.

"Anything for you," he said quietly. Anyone else, the words would have felt trite, fake. But she knew enough about Captain America to know that from him, they were genuine.

She wasn't sure when they had drifted off to sleep, holding each other close like something out of a Hallmark movie. But what she did know is that she had never slept better.

* * *

"Darcy?"

At the sound of her name, Darcy turned her head, hands stilling over the keyboard. Mike was standing next to her, and she had a miserable sense of deja-vu.

"Yeah?"

He shuffled in place. Ever since that day last week, he had largely been avoiding her. She wondered if Tony Stark had something to do with it, but then scoffed. Thinking about Tony would make her mad, and that would be such a waste of her good mood.

"There's uh, a Captain here to see you. Captain America, that is." He coughed, and darted away, not even giving her a chance to answer. Her heart quickened at his announcement, and she watched him go. Nobody else seemed to have heard him, and for a moment, she felt frozen in place.

Should she feel pity for Mike? She thought it was likely that in his entire three years, six months at Stark-Industries-turned-to-SHIELD, he had probably never even seen any of the Avengers in the flesh. And then Darcy came along, and all of a sudden, she was disrupting his quiet, productivity driven department.

There were more pressing matters to think about, anyway. She stood and quietly exited the floor, shutting the door behind her with a dim _click_. Steve was standing in the hall, full uniform, shield and all. Darcy swallowed, having never seen him dressed up like that before in person. He posed an intimidating presence; he could easily overcome her if he wanted. She tucked that thought away for future use and smiled.

"Thought I'd never see you again, Captain," she joked.

He smiled back, and she eyed him, remembering the way his face looked as he fucked her just two nights ago. She hadn't seen him since, but she hadn't been sweating it. She had been living as if in a daydream since that night, all soft and warm and content. It took the edge off the cold mornings as she rushed to the subway and the florescent lighting as she worked. She knew he'd be back eventually. And here he was.

"I got called away. I wanted to see you before I have to leave again."

His words left her feeling chilled. She was hoping he was here to make plans for tonight, not to tell her that he was leaving. She frowned.

"When will you be back?"

He stepped closer, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. His shield looked impossibly heavy, seemingly glinting malevolently at her.

"I'm not sure. There's an escaped -" he stopped himself, shook his head, and then started again. "I'm going to Cambodia. It shouldn't be longer than a few days. But I promise, as soon as I'm back…"

His unsaid words bore promises that heated Darcy. She smiled at him again, her face telling secrets of her own. His gaze hooded slightly, lips parting. She wasn't even sure he realized it.

"Just be ready," he said, finally. "For me."

Lust washed over her. She wondered what he had planned, what he was thinking. Steve looked uncertain, as if he was torn between ravishing her against the wall or walking away. He nodded once, and stepped forward, hesitating. He leaned down and kissed her chastely, the roughness of his uniform brushing against her sweater. She wanted more than this, but let him end the kiss.

"Whatever you want," she said, "I want that too."

He stood up straight and locked eyes with her one last time, and then turned around, hitting the button for the elevator that she had no clearance to go on. She watched the doors close on his face.

Her heart was hammering for too long after he was gone. His words left something searing within her, and she made herself take deep breaths before going back to work. It was going to be a long couple of days until he was in her bed again.

* * *

Darcy took her time heading home that evening. Without Steve to look forward to, she allowed herself to enjoy the crisp winter day. They were still calling for snow, but none had fallen yet. Eyes to the sky, she watched the heavy gray clouds churning haphazardly. Her nose burned from the chill.

She watched the buildings as she passed them, taking in the people milling about and the displays in the windows. She passed a loud, bustling restaurant, the smells of grilled meat and alcohol spilling onto the sidewalk; above it four stories up, an old man leaned out of his window, smoking a cigarette. He watched her pass and waved lazily as she stared.

The sidewalk was cracked in places, and in others where there was construction, she was ushered through clapboard, blocking the sky. The sounds of jackhammers and tires screeching and people shouting as they made their way to their destinations were almost overwhelming. Darcy realized that for the first time, she was _aware_ of this city - this place where she lived. It was like a sentient being that she had only just now acknowledged.

It was beautiful, dirty, and fucked, all at once.

She made her way to her apartment, keying the lock and bounding up the stairs. She wasn't sure what was in her plans for the evening, but her fingers were itching to write. She thought of the brand new journal she had purchased the day before, crisp pages waiting for words. When she got to her front door, she stopped short.

It was cracked open. Her heart went into overdrive, everything in her head before that moment forgotten. She wondered if earlier, somehow, Steve was just putting on a show - that he wasn't going to Cambodia, and he was in there, waiting to back her into a corner, waiting to pounce, waiting to catch her off guard.

But it didn't seem right. If he wanted to catch her off guard, he wouldn't have left her front door open.

She should run. She should turn around and get the police. But something within her couldn't bear it. She was tired of being a scared little bitch - she wanted to take the control back. Steve had shown her how it felt to be alive again. Well, this was living, too. Facing your fear. Pepper spraying the fuck out of intruders in your apartment.

For the second time in so many days, she dug her pepper spray out of her bag, and used her foot to tentatively push the door open. It creaked unbearably loud, and she winced, stepping inside her living area, softly.

She was not alone, and it wasn't Steve. She dropped the can, her body shaking with fear and excitement and disbelief.

Jane was in her living room, putting a finger to her lips as if to quiet her.

* * *

 _Comments and thoughts appreciated!_


	4. Part Four

_**Part Four**_

* * *

"Don't scream," Jane whispered.

Darcy took a halting step back, hitting the half-open front door behind her, the force of the action swinging it shut. She winced from the abrupt sound, struggling for breath.

She may as well have been looking at a ghost.

"What're you -" she started, and then stopped. She nervously gripped the strap of her crossover, wearing at the vinyl with her thumb. She took inventory of the small space, and realized that Jane was alone. "Where's Loki?"

"Waiting for me, far away from here," Jane said simply. For the first time, Darcy realized that she was wearing some crazy-ass gown that looked like nothing anyone has worn in several hundred years, all soft and green and ethereal. When Jane's hand went to her stomach, Darcy gasped.

"You're pregnant?"

It was too much. She had to sit down. And she did, right on the couch where she had blown Steve to oblivion just two nights before. Looking at Jane, with the threat of Loki, the Big Bad Wolf, _somewhere_ , reminded her vividly that Steve was also far away from here, and she was in this alone.

"I know you're upset," Jane said then, moving gingerly toward Darcy. Her hands dropped to her sides, and Darcy stared at her baby-bump. She was just showing, barely a whisper of pregnancy. Jane caught her staring. "I'm four months."

"Is it…" Darcy licked her lips, baffled by what she was about to say. "Is it Loki's?"

Jane laughed, the sound musical and light. Darcy stared at her, noticing how different she was from her memory, but unable to put her finger on how. "Of course it is."

They were silent for a moment. Darcy's mind was racing. This was not how she envisioned seeing Jane again. She imagined her to look as she did that day she was arrested. Confused, scared, alone. Not full of life and promise. Not this happy and so _alien_.

"What has he done to you?" she asked Jane. "Other than the obvious?"

"Nothing I didn't ask for."

"Jane…" Darcy held her head in her hands. This was _so_ not what she envisioned happening. She thought that if she ever saw Jane again, it would be on _her_ terms, not Jane's. She thought that they'd be on equal grounds - not this, not _this._

Darcy felt like the shittiest person on earth. Jane was obviously happy - happier than Darcy had ever seen her. She remembered night after night after night of Jane living on coffee, on the hope that she'd get the equation just right enough to bring her to Thor, or at least _find_ him, after he had left them in Puente Antiguo. And it was all for nothing - Thor had dumped her, and Jane was devastated. And now, Jane _glowed_. Wasn't that enough for Darcy?

"I know you have questions." She nodded into her hands at Jane's statement, not even looking up. She suddenly felt sick. "Tell me what they are."

"Why are you here?" Darcy asked after a few beats. She looked up at Jane, meeting her eye. Jane was standing several paces away, her eyes locked on Darcy, her dress so long, it was touching the floor. Material like that didn't belong in a place like this.

"I promised you," Jane said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I promised I'd explain everything to you when I could."

"Jane, that was fucking _months_ ago. I kinda didn't expect you to hold onto that when you left the planet."

"It wasn't safe for me to come here. It still isn't."

"You're practically a war criminal, Jane. You _shouldn't_ be here." Darcy's words felt like venom, surprising her, and she stood. "The goddamn _Avengers_ were looking for you. They still might be, for all I know." She remembered Steve's promise, hazy in her mind. That he would look for her, and Loki. Suddenly that sweet promise felt sour. What did she think would happen to Jane if he _did_ find her?

"I know. But I couldn't wait much longer. I had to - I had to see you. To talk to you. To say that I'm sorry."

Darcy's eyes flicked to Jane's stomach again. "And what exactly are you apologizing for? It's not like you drank the last Coke, Jane. You're with Loki! The _bad_ guy. The guy that defaced a major part of Manhattan - the guy that almost _killed_ Thor, and Tony Stark! And then you _left_ me." She was blinking back tears. Hot, thick and acidic - her throat swelled, and she shook her head furiously, pointing at Jane with a shaking finger. "You have no idea how I've felt. How much I've worried - how much I've blamed myself. The signs were all in front of me, and I ignored them."

"Darcy -"

" _No_. Don't ' _Darcy_ ' me. I've been left with your mess to clean up. I haven't slept, I can't eat, and I see the two of you _everywhere_. And now you're here, to make it worse."

"I know you've been suffering," Jane whispered. "Loki told me -"

"Loki shouldn't be telling you _shit_ about me."

"He has to - he, he has this link, he can see you, and my mom and everyone else, if they're on earth." Jane was babbling. "He told me you can't sleep, that you…you were getting worse. And then, the past few days, he said you were…different, happier."

"Oh, my fucking god," Darcy breathed, seething. "Jane, do you have any idea how fucking creepy that is?! It's an invasion of privacy! There are laws against that!"

Jane's eyes were wet, liquid threatening to spill. "It's - it's all I have, Darcy. I can't not have that. You don't understand."

"Oh, I _so_ do. You made a choice - you left us. You ran from your problems, and you want it both ways. Tell Loki that he is officially disinvited to viewing my personal life like a Netflix special." She wondered, briefly, if Loki had seen her and Steve together. The thought made her skin crawl with a thousand bugs. Fuck _that_.

"Fine. I'll tell him. Please, let's not fight."

"Did you seriously come here expecting anything else?"

Jane shook her head slowly. "I don't know what I was expecting, honestly."

The defeat in Jane's tone deflated Darcy. All of her previous anger dissipated quickly, and she found that she had no idea what to say.

"I don't have a lot of time, Darcy. Loki told me I only had an hour or so - and I've already been here forty minutes."

"How did you get here? How did you escape from SHIELD, anyway?"

"Darcy - everything I was looking for, it was all _real_. There are links between worlds, baby wormholes, like branches on a tree."

"Wait, you're telling me you got here through a _wormhole_?" Darcy asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm telling you." For the first time that night, Jane's eyes lit up like the old days when she got really excited over her research. "There's worlds you've never even dreamed of out there. All connected to each other, just like Thor told me."

Darcy vaguely remembered the tree-like drawing that Thor had marked for Jane in New Mexico. She shook her head in disbelief. "Where have you been, then? Exactly?"

Jane smiled thinly. "That's not important. What's important is that you know I'm safe, that I'm okay. I've fallen in love, Darce." The use of her old nickname brought that lump in her throat back, and she approached Jane, tentatively.

"You…love him? Loki?"

"Yes. We've made ourselves a home. We're in hiding, for awhile. He gave me an apple, this…magical apple."

Magical apple? Darcy frowned, eying the way Jane's hair fell so perfectly, delicately brushing her shoulders. She noticed the small details, like the way her lips looked so pink against her pale face, her eyes expressive and somehow worldly in a way they weren't before.

"What'd this apple do?"

Jane looked apologetic. "It made me immortal. Or at least, basically immortal. Like him, and Thor."

" _What_?"

"The baby," she blurted, as if anticipating Darcy's reaction. "When I found out I was pregnant - he, he didn't want to take a chance. I didn't, either."

Her head was spinning. She nodded, numbly, as if she understood, but she didn't. She wasn't sure if knowing all this was better than before - if she'd rather go back to grieving. She was completely speechless.

"Congratulations," she said finally, after she had managed to collect herself. "I'm very happy for you and your new life." The words were mechanical, but she couldn't help but feel that they came from someplace genuine. Jane really did look happy. She didn't think that she was coerced into coming here and saying any of it - but then again, how would Darcy know?

"Thank you," Jane said, eying her, as if searching for sarcasm. She then proceeded to look around, eyes flicking from Darcy's shabby couch to her small TV and haphazard collection of books and DVDs littering the floor. "So this is where SHIELD put you?"

"Yup. Home sweet home."

"And you're here all by yourself?"

The question was pointed. Darcy's face flamed, remembering the other night, tangled up with Steve in her bed, sleeping like she had fallen into a coma.

"Who is he?" Jane asked, a knowing smile on her face.

"Who is who? Nobody."

"C'mon, Darcy. You're blushing. Tell me who has made you so happy lately."

Darcy swallowed. "His name is Steve."

Jane clapped her hands together like something out of a 60s movie; she was only missing a cigarette and an up-do. "Ooooh, I like it. And how did you meet him?"

"Just, you know. Around." Darcy felt like being purposefully cagey. She wasn't sure she wanted to explain to Jane how Steve made her feel - like a breath of fresh air after being buried alive for months. She felt the unnecessary urge to protect him, even though Jane herself was harmless and Steve could look after himself.

"You're not being very up front about this," Jane said, sighing. "I wish you would. What is it? Do I know him? Does he work for SHIELD?"

Darcy snorted, giving herself away. "Jesus, Jane. It's Steve Rogers. You know, the spangled guy on all those t-shirts you kept making fun of last year."

"Woah - wait. You're with _Captain America_?"

She shrugged, not sure if that was the correct way to describe what the two of them were doing. "Or…something like it." She remembered his dark promise. _Just be ready. For me_. She shivered visibly.

"Wow." Jane's eyebrows knit, and she smiled hesitantly. "What's he like?"

Darcy didn't know how to answer that question. She thought of the first time she had ever seen him, in that elevator in Stark Tower; the way he had smiled at her, the way he had _seen_ her. She thought of his hooded gaze and full lips, the shallow breaths as he fucked her, possession in his eyes. And then she thought of his crisp, heavy uniform, the way it moved _with_ him, not against him.

"He's…everything they say." She paused, then continued. "Valiant. Patriotic. All that shit."

"That's it?" Jane asked. "Just a hero, like they say?"

It was like she was reading Darcy's mind. "Well, no. Not just a hero." Him stealing her journal was proof of that; it such an incongruent image, starkly opposite everything he seemed to stand for. The way he had whispered as he slammed into her, " _You_ are _mine_." "There's other stuff, too." She gave Jane a knowing look, blushing furiously, hoping she'd drop it.

She raised her hands, eyebrows raised. "Okay, okay. I got it. We don't have to talk about him anymore."

"So you're gonna live forever, huh?" Now that the initial rush was over, that she had time to fully process that Jane was here and had risked a lot to speak to her, Darcy allowed herself to feel relief. She no longer had to feel so grief-ridden and achy all the time. She could remember the good things without that heavy shadow of sadness.

"Something like that," Jane replied. "Honestly…I haven't wrapped my head around it. But I feel…so different. Good. And full."

"Well, duh. You've got a baby in there. And not a food one."

"Right?" Jane smiled, giggling at Darcy's comment, hand going toward her stomach again. "I never thought being pregnant would make me this happy."

"How did he take it?" Darcy asked before she could stop herself.

"He was shocked. He didn't think that he'd be able to get me pregnant of all things. Since I'm - I _was_ \- a mortal." Jane bit her lip, as if realizing how different she sounded from before. She was talking like Loki would, or Thor. Darcy waited for her to continue. "But he is very happy. He wants this with me."

Darcy remembered the way Steve had told her that he couldn't have children. She wondered how she would feel if someone had told her that - the thought was isolating and sad. Her heart suddenly ached very much for Steve, but pressed on.

"It sounds like you've got it all figured out. You've got a home, a…Loki. And a baby on the way."

Jane nodded, smiling, but then looked to the window. It was dark, like any other day in February around this time, and a shadow crossed over her face. "I'm running out of time," Jane said sadly. "I have to go soon. I wish I could stay a little longer, but it's not safe."

"Jane, I'll - I'll miss you. I've missed you, a lot." Darcy stepped forward, and pulled Jane into a hug, careful not to press too tightly against her stomach. "I hope one day I can see your baby."

"Oh, I'm sure you will. It would be a crime for my baby to never meet his or her godmother."

Darcy stilled, and then squeezed her tighter. "Oh my god, seriously?"

"Yup." Jane released her, stepping back and smiling. "Just do me a favor. Don't - don't tell anyone you saw me. _Please_. I just…I don't want anything to happen to you."

Darcy remembered Agent Wilson's interrogation the day after she was brought from New Mexico. She thought of Steve, of his open face, and then remembered his shield, heavy and absolute in his hand. She shook her head. "I won't."

"And…I want you to know that before Loki, I felt like you. Lost, confused…just looking for answers. The first time we made love, it was like everything fell into place." Jane blushed, looking down at her feet, but then back up again, her voice more confident than before. "I believe in soul mates, Darcy. Sometimes, the things you're looking for don't hold the answers. It's the things you don't expect that reach out and grab you. So if…if Steve makes you feel that way, then Darcy, don't you let go of him."

Jane's proclamation gave Darcy shivers. She nodded, not sure what else to say.

"Goodbye, Jane."

"Bye, Darcy. You'll see me again, some day."

Darcy watched Jane leave her apartment. She wondered how Jane would walk down the street to wherever she was going without attracting attention.

As the door closed, Darcy could have sworn she saw Jane's dress fading away, the material turning see-through before her eyes.

* * *

It was a grueling couple of days after Jane's visit. It was only nearing the middle of February, but SHIELD insisted that her department was behind schedule for the quarter. Some asshole high up sent a vicious email to everyone, and Mike was cracking down in efforts to increase productivity without breaking anyone's fingers.

It didn't matter, though. She heard her cube neighbor whispering to his that he saw Captain America on the elevator earlier that morning on his way from the cafeteria for a latte. And that made Darcy's heart skip. It was all she could think about until five o'clock came, and then she was out the door before anyone could ask her to stay.

Out in the lobby, she realized that she had no way to contact him, nor he to her. She wondered if she should wait around for a bit, to see if he'd come down, but then realized how incredibly stupid that was. If he wanted her, he'd come to her. Like he did before.

Her body was thrumming with anticipation. Steve told her to be ready for him. To her, that meant to go home and wait. And that's what she intended to do.

On the subway, she sat down and pulled her phone out, putting earbuds in and selecting a playlist randomly. She had no missed texts or calls. The shuffle of the car lulled her eyes shut.

It wasn't even a few moments later that she felt her left earbud being pulled out. She opened her eyes and turned her head, ready to tell someone off. She shouldn't have been surprised that it was Steve.

But she was. She opened her mouth, a small gasp escaping her lips. He was sitting next to her in black slacks and a button-up under brown leather jacket, looking incredibly at ease in this crowded place. His scruff was gone, and his eyes were boring into her like she were prey and he was contemplating a hunt. There was no trace of a smile.

"Are you alone?" he asked. Darcy nodded, uncertain. There was something different about him than before, and it scared and thrilled her. Her skin was tingling from the adrenaline suddenly coursing through her veins. Her phone vibrated in her hand.

"You should check that."

Confused, she opened her phone and saw an incoming text from a number not logged in her contacts.

 _Your safe word is Monkey. Don't be afraid to use it._

Darcy's mouth dried. She stared at her phone for a good fifteen seconds, unable to believe what was happening - how did Steve Rogers know what a _safe word_ was? - but felt anticipation building in spite of herself. She looked back up at Steve, question in her eyes.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said, softly, eyes darting around the car, and then back on her again. "At your stop, we're going to get off. You're going to take me into your apartment, and then you're going to give yourself to me."

She tried to swallow, but her throat wouldn't respond. She should be scared of him right now. Safe word or not, he could easily hurt her. He could do so much more than hurt her, if he wanted to. But instead of feeling afraid, she only felt horny as fuck.

"What if I say no?" she asked him quietly, so nobody else in the car could hear their conversation. Her own words thrilled her even more. She felt heat and tension between her legs, and she squeezed her thighs together.

His eyes darkened. "It would not be in your best interest to say no to me."

Darcy smirked, gaining confidence in their game. "Why not? It's not like you'd force me to fuck you."

Her statement bore the weight of a challenge. She wondered if she'd taken it too far when he didn't immediately reply. Instead, he leaned in, and whispered, "I think you'll find that I would. And I would enjoy every second of your struggle."

The subway stopped at her exit. She quickly stood, rushing out of the car, her pussy throbbing from his words and the images those words provoked. It was wrong, absolutely taboo and forbidden to want what he was offering her. And that made her want it even more.

Steve was close behind her as she bounded up the stairs and onto her street, avoiding people on their way down to the station. He didn't touch her, but was close enough that if she stopped, he'd run right into her. Her stomach was knotting with anticipation and lust; she could barely think about anything else but getting into her apartment and feeling him inside of her again. But first, she wanted to make him work for it. She was going to play his game.

Her hands were shaking as she unlocked her apartment door. Steve was watching her, she could feel it; he didn't offer to help. He followed her up the stairs and leaned against the wall next to her front door, watching her struggle with her keyring again, his face impassive.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were excited for what's about to happen," he said casually. She fit her key in the lock, turning it once and then looking at him. It was hard to believe that this was the same man who stood before her two days ago, saying farewell. It was like he came back someone else. And it was fucking hot.

"I already told you no."

She opened the door and he followed her inside. She took her bag off and set it down on her dining room table, then turned to face him, forcing defiance in her expression.

"No you didn't," Steve said, shutting the door behind them and locking it. The finality of the action amped Darcy up all over again, and she realized for the first time just how serious this was. The fear was mild, yet heady enough mix with her lust and make her dizzy. She thought of her safe word, but it was out of her mind before she could even consider it. She told him that whatever he wanted, she wanted that too. And she did.

"Well, I'm saying it now." Darcy unzipped her jacket, throwing it on the ground next to her. His eyes watched its descent. It landed in a pile with a soft _plop_.

"Come here," he said. His voice sounded like venom. Like sex.

She shook her head, and made her way for her bedroom, stopping at the doorway. "You should go," she said. "You shouldn't be here."

"I saw the way you were looking at me. On the subway." His voice was a purr in her ear; she hadn't heard him follow her, and she startled. His hand brushed over her shoulder, and her breath hitched despite the layers between them. He was pressed up against her back; she could feel heat radiating off of him. He was excited, and that made her even hotter.

"You scared me on the subway," she said, not sure if she was lying or not. This _did_ scare her, but she had a safe word. She had an out. And it excited her; it was every fantasy she had ever had, multiplied. She wondered how much further she could take it before he snapped. "Everything they say about you is bullshit."

His soft touch over her shoulder became a strong grip. He spun her around, forcing her to look at him. "What?" he spat, his eyes flashing.

Was he still pretending? She couldn't tell. She feebly tried to push herself out of his grip, but he was way too strong. Her heart began to pound.

"You heard me. They say you're kind, and generous. A true patriot." His brow furrowed, a warning. But Darcy couldn't stop, her heart racing, loving their game. "But they're fucking lying. You're an animal. A monster."

Steve grabbed her jaw, crashing his lips into hers in a violent kiss that gave her butterflies and made her pant. Darcy felt his tongue, and for a moment, she forgot that she was supposed to be fighting him.

She wasn't sure how it happened, but she ended up on her bed, and he was overpowering her, his weight pinning her down. She smacked at his back, her pathetic not-attempt to stop him, the palms of her hands smarting from the warm leather of his jacket, gasping and moaning as he attacked her mouth with his. He was grinding against her, and it was so warm and delicious that she could only accept the weight of him, the sensation. She forgot to fight.

"Yes," he panted, breaking the kiss. His lips trailed down her neck, stopping where her sweater started. His hands were under it in a flash, bringing it up; his touch made Darcy cry out. "I knew you'd submit."

His words reminded her that she should be struggling. She _needed_ to struggle. She had to feel like he was taking something from her. It was the only way to feel whole again.

"Get off me," she breathed, trying to move away. She rolled over, trying to crawl out from under him, but he stopped her, his hand grasping her wrist and pinning it above her head, forcing her on her back again.

"That's not what you want," he said. She looked at him, his eyes watching her, his lips parted. She trusted him, despite everything they were doing. She knew he'd never hurt her, not any more than she wanted to be. He read her journal. He understood her.

"Please don't," she pleaded, uncertain if her voice had any conviction, and let him overtake her. He ripped her shirt off, throwing it across the room. His mouth attacked her breasts through her bra, nipping and licking, and then he moved down to her jeans, unbuttoning them achingly slowly, and then pulling them down her shaking legs.

His fingers brushed over her hot center through her panties, and he _tsked_ as she cried out from the frustratingly soft touch. "So much for telling me no."

Everything about this was so erotic, so incredibly overpowering, that Darcy could only moan, pushing her hips against his hand in response. He chuckled in her ear, and she opened eyes she didn't even realize she had shut and met his gaze.

"I can't stop you," she said. "You're too strong."

"That's right." Steve pulled her panties off her hips, throwing them across the room. He had taken nothing off, but Darcy eyed his straining erection through his slacks. He reached out and slid his thumb through her folds, landing on that sweet spot and pressing.

"Oh -" she cried out, losing control over her hips. He slid a finger inside her, then two, and she could only breathe.

It should have been illegal, how good he was at this - like he had been born with the knowledge of how to pleasure her. It was hard to believe that just last week, she was showing him how to do this, but here he was, bringing her so close to orgasm that she could taste it.

"Don't you stop," she hissed at him, and then came spectacularly on his fingers; she could hear his breathing heavy in her ear.

"Who's the animal now?" he asked, his voice rich and husky. She heard his belt buckle and zipper, and then felt the heat of his cock pressing against her leg, and she groaned.

"I am," she said, unable to say anything else; she was overcome with the threat of him entering her. She ground against him, his pants rough against her sensitive thighs, and he let out a low sound, deep in his throat.

"Tell me you want this."

"I want this. I want you. I _need_ you." She reached with shaking fingers to touch his neck, sliding her hands under the collar of his button-down. She grabbed him so hard she felt her nails digging into his hot skin.

His pupils were blown wide, taking her in. She wondered what she looked like to him, all wild and wanting. Naked except for her bra, which was constraining her aching breasts as she breathed heavily, she waited for his next move.

Inch by inch, he slid into her, his breaths coming out in quick bursts. She stopped breathing, only able to _feel_.

Once he was in as far as he could go, he withdrew completely, and then slammed back into her without warning.

They both cried out together, the sounds of their mingled breaths and bodies a cacophony in Darcy's ears. He took up a steady rhythm, driving into her so deep it almost hurt, but she couldn't get enough. She could only hold onto him as he fucked her, relishing the feeling of him inside of her; it felt like possession. The look in his eye was enough for her to know that that's what he thought, too.

Steve was getting close. She could tell by the way his mouth was parted, the crease in his eyebrows, and the speed of his hips. She ran her hands through his hair, the feel of it soft and thick against her fingers, and pushed his head down toward hers, meeting his lips in a hurried kiss.

"Who do you belong to?" he growled into her neck after they parted. Darcy's skin flamed from the question, so primal and erotic.

"You." Her response came out as a gasp as his pace quickened; she could hear their bodies slapping together in the still room. "I belong to you."

His response was a guttural sound in the back of his throat as he came, pumping into her until he was spent. She felt his heavy breathing against her chest, and then he sat up, running a hand through his hair, thoroughly mussing it.

"My God," he said, and then smiled at Darcy, for the first time that night. Without warning, he grabbed her, pulling her up and rolling with her so she was on top of him, and he on his back. She felt his heart beating steadily in his chest, which was damp through his shirt, and she smiled into his neck, dizzy and punch drunk.

Is this how Jane felt? Is this how Loki made her feel? Like he was the only thing that existed, that and her heart in her throat? If so...then Darcy rather thought she could forgive her.

* * *

 _Comments and thoughts appreciated!_


	5. Part Five

The next morning, Darcy woke abruptly, sunlight blinding her when she opened her eyes.

She was aware of his presence in her bed before she saw him; his heavy weight drawing her in, the sound of his breathing next to her. Almost subconsciously, she reached out to touch him, her hand rubbing lazily over his bare chest. She took him in, his features undisturbed with sleep, the Saturday sun lighting his eyelashes on fire.

Jane's words came to mind as she watched Steve sleep. Specifically, the cheesy soul mate words. _I believe in soul mates_ , she'd said. _If Steve makes you feel that way, then Darcy, don_ _'t you let go of him_.

Darcy had never been one for grand, romantic fantasies. She was perfectly okay with the fact that crazy romance-novel love would probably never happen to her. But looking at him now, his face so innocent in sleep, the memories of what they did the night before so fresh in her mind, she could only blush. A warm, exquisite feeling washed over her as she realized that for the first time in months, she was truly happy.

Carefully, so as not to disturb him, she sat up and pulled her journal out of her nightstand. She opened it up, pen in hand, and after a furtive glance at Steve, she began to write.

 _is there anything more powerful than  
_ _a look my way, a breath of fresh air  
_ _when you move with me, for me, so  
_ _that i can feel entirely whole again_

 _the look in your eyes is pure greed -  
_ _in this context i can only see that  
_ _the color has been washed out, made  
_ _way for something richer, darker, and  
_ _i can only say yes -_

"What're you writing?"

Darcy jumped, lowering her pen and looking over at Steve, who's question shocked her out of her reverie. She shook her head, suddenly bashful.

"Oh, you know. Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing," he replied, a small smile on his face.

She closed the book, watching as he sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist. Her heart, ever-present recently, sped up as he leaned toward her, intent in his eyes, his hand cupping her face.

She met him halfway, relishing in the feel of his lips so warm against hers, and she smiled into the kiss.

"Good morning," she said when they parted.

His hand lingered on her face, his eyes searching hers. She wished she could read his mind. "Good morning to you," he replied.

Darcy opened her journal back to the page she was on, skimming over the rough black words. After some internal debate, she exhaled deeply, and handed the book to him.

"Go easy on me."

As if it were made of glass, Steve took it, carefully holding it in both hands. She watched his eyes dance along, a strange knot forming in her stomach. She had never watched anyone reading her words. She had actively done everything she could to keep her journals secret - but he _understood_ her. She saw it in his face when he looked at her; felt it in the way he touched her.

She thought of last night, the way he had looked at her as he ran his hand down her hot center. _So much for telling me no_. She shivered.

"Darcy…"

His voice brought her back. He closed the book, placing it gently on the nightstand next to him, out of her reach. She smiled nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"What's the verdict?"

He didn't answer her, but instead shifted, pushing her down against the bed, his weight warm and hard on top of her. They were close - so close, she could feel his breath against her lips, could see all the way through those vivid blue eyes of his, and heat washed over her as she realized she still couldn't tell what he was thinking, even this close up; that realization both scared and thrilled her. It felt like a privilege to be so unbearably close to him. He was like a bright white light, all turned up, and to have that light cast her way was enough to stop her breath.

"I've never met anyone like you before." His words were soft, genuine. She flushed.

"Sure you have."

"No." There was conviction in his voice now, and he traced a finger down her cheek, down her neck. Goosebumps formed, her mind laser-focused on that hot trail, her body responding to it like a switch flicked on. "You're everything I never knew I needed."

"I've never…" she trailed off, wanting to reciprocate. Wanting to tell him that since she came home that night to find him in her apartment, that look of stunned resignation on his face, she had hardly thought of anything else. Despite how they came to meet, it didn't seem to change the fact that he was so _good_. And she…was not. She remembered Jane again, and Darcy flushed for a different reason. She could not tell Steve about Jane.

"What?" he urged, fingers tracing her collar bone. She forced thoughts of Jane away, and instead thought about those fingers of his, the way he had expertly slid them inside of her the night before, the way he had unraveled her in no time at all. Is that how it would always be? He was a force she could not reckon with. He had control, and he had power. And thinking about that only excited her more.

"I've never met anyone like you, either. You're…" she inhaled a quick breath as his hand traveled lower, brushing over her nipples, hardening them. She opened her mouth and said the first thing that came to mind. "Magnetic."

He did not immediately reply, but his eyes locked on hers, and she saw that now-familiar expression wash over his face, that darkening in his eyes that sped her heart right up.

His hand trailed lower, stopping at her hip. There was a very still silence in the room as they looked at each other, and Darcy shifted slightly beneath him, urging his hand toward the obvious place.

"Eager, are we?" Steve said, a grin forming. He kept his hand in place, watching her with something like amusement in his eyes.

"You're teasing me."

She felt his erection growing, pressing against her bare thigh. "Is that what this is called?" His voice was all mock coyness, but she saw the playfulness on his face.

"Hey now. I know you were a virgin and all like, five days ago, but c'mon." She grabbed his wrist, intending to move his hand to her greedy pussy, but it was impossible. He smiled wickedly at her, as if finding her measly attempts to force him to do _anything_ amusing.

"If you ask nicely, I just might give you what you want."

"You serious? You _know_ what I want."

His hand squeezed at her hip, and Darcy squirmed again.

"I know what you want, yes. But I want to hear you say it."

Something like embarrassment ignited at that statement, but something else, something deep and carnal, was beginning to overpower it. She kept her hand on his wrist, strengthening her grip against his hot skin, feeling the bone and tendon beneath and marveling at how up until this moment, she had regarded him as something almost more than a man. But he was exactly that, and she swallowed, bringing the courage somewhere up from within her to say what he wanted to hear, what she wanted to say, aware of his searching gaze on her face.

"I want you to fuck me." Saying that in the bright light of morning somehow felt different than in the dark - it made her feel exposed somehow, vulnerable. She wanted him, all of him, not just in bed but other ways, too. She wanted to see where this could go - to see how it'd feel to hold his hand walking down the street; to feel his body pressed close against hers in a taxi; to watch his face light up with a backdrop of fireworks against the blue-black sky. She wanted those things. But she knew that with Steve, those things might not be possible. She could take what she could get. She would.

It was as if he could see her thoughts on her face like words in a book, and his expression changed. He leaned in, kissing her softly, pulling her toward him and then suddenly he was on his back and she was on top of him. She relished in the heat and warmth, realizing for the first time how very safe she felt here with him. It was like there was no world, no SHIELD or Jane or Loki or anything out of the ordinary at all. Just her and him in her tiny bedroom, the sounds of bleating of horns in the street and the distant voices below.

"It's like -" she started, but halted abruptly, unsure of how to proceed. She had almost said, _It_ _'s like I'm falling for you_.

"What is it?" he asked her, and Darcy heard how much he cared in those three words.

"I need to feel you inside of me," she said instead, and sat up, straddling his thighs and taking his cock in her hand. His gaze hooded immediately at her touch, his legs stiffening beneath her. "Don't you need that, too?"

She started slow, teasing him, really - he had teased her earlier, so it was only fair - and Steve exhaled sharply, something like a gasp, sending a shock of heat straight to her pussy. She hardened her grip and increased her speed, sliding her thumb over the tip to catch the slick pre-come that had accumulated there, causing him to hiss through his teeth. Darcy leaned down, licking the length of him, swirling her tongue around the tip, his hip tense under her free hand.

"I need it," he said, barely more than a whisper. She heard traces of a moan in his words, and pulled herself up, positioning him with her entrance.

"What do you need?" she asked him, sliding his cock against her hot, wet center, tipping her head back and shutting her eyes, unable to coherently think about anything else to say. It was too heady, the sensation, the overwhelming knowledge that she could tilt her hips just the smallest bit and he would be inside of her again. Home.

"You. This. Please."

She opened her eyes and looked at him, his body tight and tense, making an obvious effort not to thrust his hips upward. His pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed with lust, and Darcy could not wait any longer. Using one hand to guide his cock, she sunk down onto him, groaning as he stretched her. Once he was in as far as he could go, she began to ride him, slowly at first, the both of them breathing heavily together.

Steve grabbed her face, kissing her, and then bit her lower lip roughly, his hips meeting hers as she fucked him.

"God," he said, the word hot against her ear. "Don't stop."

His command was like a catalyst for an orgasm she hadn't even known was approaching. She came with no preamble at all, driving her hips against him with as much force as she could muster, completely lost in her own pleasure, crying out and squeezing at Steve's shoulders. She was vaguely aware of his hands holding her hips, his quick and deep thrusts, and the sound of his own climax in her ears. She rocked against him as he came, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder, her hair hot and heavy against her neck.

They were very still for a moment, catching their breaths. Darcy felt a satisfying warmth spread over her as she breathed in the scent of him, that utter masculinity with a hint of soap. After a few moments, she sat up, him still inside of her, and grinned at him.

"Safe to say you liked that?"

Humor flashed across his face, and he sat up, too, holding her against him, his lips meeting hers, and when he drew back, she saw tenderness there that beelined straight for her heart. It was too real, that expression. She couldn't stop it, and she couldn't look away.

"Darcy, to say I _liked_ it would be an understatement." The tenderness was gone in a flash, replaced by playfulness again, and she smiled at him, but unable to fully shake the way he had just made her feel with one single look.

"Well, Captain." She pulled away from him, getting up and turning her head to look at him from behind. She was sure that she was a mess, but somehow, she didn't care. "I think it's time for a shower. Care to join?"

* * *

The next day, it began to snow.

In normal circumstances, Darcy wouldn't have cared. They'd been threatening it for almost two weeks now, and snow had never been a source of interest for her. Aliens popping out of the sky and superheroes and those strange events over the last few years had taken precedence over what the weather was doing in her mind. But today, the tiny white flakes drew her to the window, transfixed.

Gray clouds rolled slowly above, and it was just starting to get dark. She watched the snow fall, the lights from buildings catching and glittering like diamonds. She wondered what happened to the city when it snowed hard. As a child, in Texas, she remembered the way her whole town would shut down if it snowed. But here, eleven million souls resided in such a small space. The world would go on if it were covered in white. Something about that thought comforted her, and she smiled.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, her smile turning into a sly grin when she realized it was Steve. She blushed at the first text message in the thread - _Your safe word is Monkey_ \- but then frowned at the new message he just sent.

 _Getting called in. Don_ _'t know when I'll be back. Stay safe._

Stay safe? Darcy's brow furrowed; her mouth set in a grim line. What was between them was still new, and she still had a lot to learn about him - but for some reason, those two words worried her. Tapping the reply button, she wrote, _Don_ _'t worry about me. It's you who should be safe. Hope to see you soon._

He didn't reply, and she pocketed her phone. Lifting her hand, she pressed her fingers against the window, letting the cold seep through, her mind reeling from his text. Where was he going? Would he be in a lot of danger? Will he have to kill people? Would he be able to talk about it when he got back? She bit her lip, lowering her hand, blinking back frustrated tears. These were questions she already knew the answers to.

She'd never know.

* * *

In just a few hours, snow blanketed the city; street lamps turned the white golden, and the crunch of her boots were the overpowering sound on the street. It was late; she'd had lost track of time. She pulled her phone out.

Darcy's breath clouded in front of her, her fingers cold. She'd been walking for two hours after waking abruptly from a nightmare. In it, Jane had been lost, jumping from wormhole to wormhole, until she landed right in front of Stark Tower. Iron Man picked her up and flew her away, and as Darcy tried to chase after them, Steve grabbed her and wouldn't let go.

"It's for the best," he had whispered in her ear.

Shaking the memory off, she rounded a corner. A man was propped against a light post, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He eyed her, smirking, and Darcy ducked her head and crossed the street, suddenly worried.

Maybe it was time to head home. She had to be up for work in just a few short hours, and at this point, she felt that no amount of walking would shake her feelings away, and besides, she didn't do well with creepy men giving her creepy faces. She thought of Steve - the real one - somewhere dangerous, doing something equally dangerous, but unknown. Frustration clouded her mind once more, and she told herself not to worry or wonder what was happening to him right now.

As she neared her block, she felt a nagging sensation of someone watching her. She turned her head, thinking of the man at the light post, but saw no movements. Wary, she quickened her pace.

It happened too quickly for her to react. Cold hands grabbed her arms, spinning her around to face their owner. As she locked on with gray eyes, recognition immediately flared through her.

"You," she hissed, as his hands clenched harder around her arms, but she was too shocked to really feel it. Agent Wilson didn't react to her vicious tone, and broke eye contact, nodding briefly at someone behind her. Footsteps crunched, and frigid metal clasped around her wrists. She was forced toward the curb, to a black SUV she didn't notice before. She cursed herself for her carelessness; for not paying attention to her surroundings more, for being out here this time of night at all.

For doing the opposite of what Steve requested.

"Darcy Lewis," Wilson said then, his voice as cold as the air hitting her face, "On behalf of SHIELD, I'm here to take you in for questioning in regards to the whereabouts of Jane Foster and the war criminal, Loki."

Like a light switch, fear hit her like a tidal wave, the ripples of it violent in her veins. She shuddered against the faceless agent behind her, her temper flaring. "This sure doesn't feel like _questioning_ , asshole." To make her point clear, she jangled the handcuffs together.

Wilson smirked, but it disappeared quickly. The agent behind her guided her into the backseat of the car, the door slapping shut and locking immediately, giving her no time to even fathom escape. She stared ahead, the backseat separated from the front with heavy plastic, like a cop car. Wilson got behind the wheel, the other agent taking the passenger seat.

Her anger continued to flame. The gravity of the situation hadn't fully hit home, she thought, or else she'd be quiet and still. Somehow, they knew about Jane visiting. They wouldn't have done this otherwise. At this thought, fear washed through her anew, and she opened her suddenly dry mouth and began to yell, smacking her hands against the seat as best as she could with handcuffs and kicked at the plastic separator.

"Wilson, you piece of shit! This can't be sanctioned by SHIELD! I'm not a fucking animal. Let me go!"

If he heard her, he ignored her. The car started, and they drove off, Darcy completely powerless to stop it.

* * *

Darcy had been in this part of the tower before. Situated five levels underground, it was utterly lifeless, with bright white tiling and lighting; she thought, briefly, it was a tactic to confuse those who were brought here to never be sure of what time it was. This is where they brought her when Jane disappeared with Loki, where they grilled her relentlessly with questions.

The difference, this time, was that she had to lie.

Wilson and the unknown agent lead her down a hallway, toward an unmarked door. He swiped his keycard, gaining them entry, and they crossed the threshold to an interrogation room. She sat, however unwillingly, down at the table, her hands still bound behind her. Wilson stood on the opposite side of the table; the other agent stationed in front of the door. Keeping guard.

"I'm waiting to hear how SHIELD authorized you to kidnap me in the middle of the night," Darcy said, gritting her teeth. Looking at Wilson, she'd never felt such raw _anger_ before, and it was an effort to even breathe from it. Fleetingly, she thought of Steve - what would he say when he got back and heard about this? Would he even be informed?

Thoughts of Steve made guilt trickle down into the cocktail of her emotions. She hadn't told him about Jane. Darcy was so _stupid_ to think that she could get away with this. She again thought of that promise he had made, still in the warm glow of their lovemaking: _I_ _'ll always look out for signs of her or Loki._ At the time, it had seemed so sweet, but now, in the harsh lighting of the interrogation room, she realized how idiotic it was to think of it that way. Steve was a soldier - and he always followed orders.

"I'm not obligated to tell you anything," Wilson said, leaning over and placing his hands on the table. He watched her for a brief moment. "You know why you're here. It would be much easier on both of us if you tell me what I need to know."

"I don't know what you want from me," she lied. "We've done this before, and I thought it was plenty thorough."

Wilson's responding smile was eerily serene, and Darcy internally recoiled.

"You were there when I arrested Jane," he said, casually. "Right?"

She refused to answer him. She wasn't sure if her silence was good or bad for her case, but she couldn't bear to reply.

"You remember how Jane got caught up in her own lies - how she _let_ herself get caught. We had the data we needed already, but…" he trailed off, glancing over at the other agent, then looked back at Darcy, his gray eyes flashing with something unknown. "But it's so much fun to make them squirm with the truth."

"I don't know where she is," Darcy spat, alarmed by his tone and expression. "And even if I did, I sure as fuck wouldn't tell you."

Wilson flashed his teeth, and without warning, slammed a fist down on the table; the sound of it stung her ears and echoed momentarily off the walls. Darcy jumped in her seat, flinching.

"Playing hero will get you nowhere with me, or SHIELD." Wilson straightened, flattening the front of his suit jacket where it had wrinkled from him leaning over the table. His jaw was ticking; Darcy watched the movement with caution, uncertain where this was going. What, exactly, did he expect her to tell him? She saw Jane, yes - but she had no idea where she went. She wasn't even on the flipping planet! Darcy's instinct, though, told her to lie.

"I have no desire to be a hero," Darcy said finally, exhaustion creeping into her voice. "There's plenty of those around here, thanks so much."

"Ah. And from what I've heard, you've snagged yourself one of your own, yes?"

Darcy's blood ran cold at his question. She stared at him, wondering what it really meant. Was it not allowed? Would Steve be in trouble, or was Wilson just trying to freak her out? Her thoughts raced toward Steve, extremely aware now that he was not here to intervene hit her fresh. She thought of his text message: _Stay safe._ If only he knew.

"Your little captain won't be here to save you, you know."

Her brow furrowed, and she chanced a look at the agent standing in front of the door. His face was stoic, nearly statuesque. Wilson's words rang in her ears…nagging at her.

"Did you…" she started, and licked her lips. "Did you send him away so you could do this?"

Wilson crossed his arms, ignoring her question. "Where's Jane Foster?"

"Fuck you. Did you send Steve away so you could fucking kidnap me?"

"I'm going to ask you again. Where is Jane Foster?"

"Go fuck yourself," Darcy said.

There was a moment of silence. She stared at Wilson. His face gave nothing away, but she was positive that she had seriously pissed him off. She sat up a little straighter, the handcuffs clacking against the back of her chair. Alarm bells began going off in her head and the hair on the back of her neck stood up as she realized just how alone she really was. If Wilson sent Steve away, then that meant she was truly, truly fucked.

"Since you refuse to have a constructive conversation with me, I suppose it's time to put you to bed." Wilson flicked his wrist, and the agent at the door walked over and pulled her out of the chair. She shot a furious glance at him, then at Wilson. He smiled at her, more of a leer than anything. As she was led away, she heard him say, "Sleep well."

They went down the hallway, and through a set of doors she hadn't been through before. The agent led her down and to a door, which he unlocked. Darcy peered inside.

A cell. There was no other word for it.

She was too tired and shaken to care. The nameless agent led her in, and unlocked her handcuffs. She thought she saw something like pity in his eyes, but when she looked again, his face was blank.

Once she was alone - as alone as she would be in a SHIELD prison cell, anyway - Darcy made her way to the cot. She sat down, fingers fisting into the material of the thin blanket.

 _Your little captain won_ _'t be here to save you, you know._

Why did Wilson care so much about Jane? Was it really just Loki he was after, or was there something more that Darcy didn't understand? While she was quite sure that SHIELD would love to have their hands on Loki permanently - to lock him away, to find a use for his power - she thought that it was likely that Jane was also valuable to them, too. She was so damn smart, _too_ smart,for her own good.

In her sleep-deprived brain, she remembered her conversation with Tony Stark - the day that Steve stole her journal.

 _She was substantially close to finishing that, based off her notes._

The Einstein-Rosen Bridge.

If all SHIELD cared about was the Bridge, why all the fanfare? Why was Wilson so deep in it? What would they even use it for? Every portal that's opened around Earth has leaked nothing but terror out of it since the beginning. Other than Thor, anyway.

Darcy closed her eyes, feeling like something was missing…something she should remember, or know. But whatever it was, she could hardly concentrate. In the bright lighting of the cell, despite the danger, despite being so alone and frightened…she curled herself into the cot and fell asleep - dreamless and deep.

* * *

Thanks so much for reading...and I'm sorry I've been a very bad author by not updating for so long. We're in the end game now (heh heh) to this story being completed, though!


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